In the past, fervent Korean nationalists propagated a so-called "Northern Expedition Theory." They claimed that Manchuria was originally Korean land, and that it was necessary to wipe out the treacherous communists to reclaim their ancestral homeland.

Of course, no one took them seriously.

Not only ordinary citizens but even right-wing politicians knew that the Northern Expedition Theory was impossible nonsense.

Korea, taking Manchuria? How?

With communist superpowers like the Soviet Union and China dividing the land between them, what could Korea possibly do?

No need to go as far as nuclear missiles—the gap in government-sanctioned superhumans alone was nearly fivefold.

Rather than conquering Manchuria, Koreans were more worried about Gaeseong being invaded and losing their dimensional gate.

In the end, all sensible Koreans scoffed at the nationalists.

• Nationalism? In the 20th century?

• Delusional fools with no grip on reality.

• Unless those two superpowers collapse overnight, there's no way Korea can take over Manchuria.

 

An ironic twist of history, or perhaps, words manifest into reality?

The Koreans back then could have never imagined it, but their scoffing would become reality.

The Soviet Union fell into disaster, and China became an unapproachable land.

And Manchuria, treated as a remote borderland by both countries, barely survived.

That survival meant millions of refugees and a land left half in ruins.

Chaos was inevitable.

The collapse of the two superpowers led to an economic crisis, the rise of warlords, and an endless flood of refugees…

The advanced nations that should have offered aid remained silent, too busy saving themselves amid the economic downturn.

Before long, the UN and the United States asked Korea to take responsibility for the disorderly Manchuria.

For Korea, already staggering under the chaos, it was a thunderbolt out of the blue.

But the government couldn't refuse.

Not only did they lack the courage to reject America, but the carrot of completely gaining rights to the Gaeseong Dimensional Gate was too sweet.

And so, the nationalists' Northern Expedition Theory became a reality.

However, the nationalists didn't cheer.

Instead of rejoicing over claiming Manchuria without a single gunshot, they were the ones who vehemently opposed Manchuria the most.

• Korea has to take care of Manchuria? How can we bear the responsibility of all those refugees?

• Are we to blame for what happened to those two countries? Blame Stalin and the communists addicted to elixirs!

• Even if it means withdrawing from the UN, we must block the Yalu and Tumen rivers!

• We should wipe them out before they drag monsters over here!

 

Once again, no one listened to them.

Because this time, the Korean government silenced them directly.

 

“Deputy Commander, wake up.”

A familiar voice roused Kim Man-su from his sleep.

“Oh, how long are you planning to sleep?”

Lying across the backseat of the car, he opened his eyes, scowling.

As he wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked outside, he saw a disturbingly familiar scene.

A towering concrete wall, guard posts, armed soldiers, and wounded being carried on stretchers.

“Ah, Manchuria, my godforsaken home…”

Kim Man-su rolled down the car window and took a deep breath. The stale, cold air of Manchuria filled his lungs.

Finally fully awake, he turned to the front seat, but the passenger seat was empty.

“…Where did he go?!”

When he looked toward the driver’s seat, the mercenary subordinate who had driven all night replied with a sour expression.

“The rookie went to the mercenary base camp.”

“He went there alone without an escort?”

“Well, you were snoring away, sir. He waited around for a bit, then grabbed his phone and just left on his own.”

“Hey! How could you let him go alone?”

“I tried to wake you, sir.”

“…”

“Seriously, he’s not a three-year-old. What’s the worst that could happen? This isn’t a danger zone. What could possibly go wrong at the Manchurian base?”

Instead of replying, Kim Man-su smacked the back of his subordinate's head.

Whack!

The subordinate’s head bounced off the steering wheel with a thud under the superhuman strength in Kim Man-su's slap.

“Hey, you idiot, don’t you know that when you say ‘what could go wrong,’ something always goes wrong?”

“Sir, you’re overreacting…”

While his subordinate mumbled, Kim Man-su rubbed his forehead.

What if something happened to the rookie? What if his talent was exposed?

The consequences would be easy to predict.

The violent types would send assassins to silence him, while the wealthy ones would try to bribe him away.

‘…That’s what I came here to prevent.’

Kim Man-su sighed deeply, like he did when his girlfriend of three years dumped him.

“Sir, why are you so nervous? Is that rookie secretly the Commander’s son or something?”

“…I’d rather it be that.”

“Looking at his face, he’s definitely not your son…”

“Enough with the nonsense. Get back to headquarters and let Seok-cheol know we’ve arrived safely.”

Before his subordinate could respond, Kim Man-su got out of the car.

A few soldiers and mercenaries recognized him, but he ignored their stares and walked on.

‘Please, let him be at the base camp, safe and sound.’

 

Commonly shortened to the "Manchurian Base," the National Military Support Command for Manchuria was too long a name for most people.

At high noon, Yeomyeong strolled through the mercenary section of the Manchurian Base.

Walking between the residential areas and shops prepared for the mercenaries, he took his time.

There was no one beside him, nor any companions to chat with, but his steps were light.

No grumbling instructors or snoring deputy commanders to bother him.

‘This is where I’ll be for the next six months.’

He took in the scenery of the mercenary section with every step.

It wasn’t a nice place, not even for flattery.

A place filled with tired soldiers, mercenaries with fierce gazes, and merchants raising their voices over money.

But Yeomyeong didn’t care. The Manchurian Base was a place where people fought monsters and died every day.

Peace had never been part of its identity.

As he wandered with such thoughts, an all-too-familiar face entered his sight.

A man with an M-shaped receding hairline, sharp, blade-like features, and slanted eyes.

‘The rat who attacked Elder Jang…?’

Though he wasn’t wearing the blue coat like last time, Yeomyeong was certain it was him.

Perhaps sensing Yeomyeong’s gaze, the man halted and turned toward him.

Surprised eyes, a gaping mouth, a brief silence.

Without any signal, both moved almost simultaneously.

Snap!

Yeomyeong kicked off the ground, and the man sprinted in the opposite direction.

He didn’t just run in a straight line. True to his nickname, the “Blue Rat,” he used every trick to create distance.

Turning every corner, jumping over passing vehicles, using outdoor units as stepping stones to climb windows, leaping between rooftops…

But every time he glanced back, the distance between him and Yeomyeong was shrinking.

Not because one was superhuman and the other wasn’t. No, that wasn’t it.

Yeomyeong was absorbing every move the man showed, adapting with a more efficient, superhuman approach.

“Who the hell is this crazy bastard?”

When he saw Yeomyeong leap across rooftops just like him, the man couldn’t help but curse.

Desperately searching for someone to help, he found only soldiers and mercenaries watching as if it was a show.

Even the military police, who were supposed to uphold order, just whistled and looked on. He had no one to help him.

He clenched his eyes shut and pulled out the handgun strapped to his waist.

Firing a gun in the Manchurian Base without permission was a serious crime, but better a court-martial than being caught by a superhuman with a grudge.

At least he’d survive.

With that thought, he turned and aimed the gun behind him. In the next moment, a lightning-fast kick struck his wrist.

“Agh!”

The gun flew into the air, unfired. Clutching his broken wrist, the man rolled on the ground.

“Wait! Wait! I surrender! I surrender!”

He raised his uninjured hand in a gesture of surrender.

“Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“…A misunderstanding?”

“This is about that fight in Incheon, right? It was all a misunderstanding. I didn’t mean any harm to Elder Jang. I swear, I once worked under him too. Why would I hurt him?”

“Oh, is that so?”

Yeomyeong reached out and grabbed his neck, pressing down with superhuman strength.

“I remember Elder Jang telling me something. Let’s see if you know it.”

“Urk, wh-what…”

“It’s faster to clear up misunderstandings after they’re dead.”

Yeomyeong tightened his grip. Or rather, he tried to.

Just as he was about to snap the man’s neck, something pressed against the back of his head.

Click.

“That’s enough.”

Turning his head, Yeomyeong found himself staring down the massive barrel of a revolver, the kind used for hunting bears.

“If you don’t want a hole in your head.”